Work Text:
No one was blind to the shift between you two, and it wasn’t for the better. You found yourself no longer wanting to linger in her presence. You would complete the briefing and head straight to your quarters—eyes dry, no longer spilling the hurt and turmoil of your emotions. You didn’t like how this made you feel.
You were trying to understand how it had come to this. She was someone you had looked up to and would do anything for, but now she was intentionally cruel. At first, you tried to ignore it; indeed, she couldn’t be acting this way toward you.
Whenever you attempted to talk to her, her lips would meet yours first, an afterthought to your intention of addressing her behavior change. She would quickly gather her clothes and leave before anyone could spot her leaving your room.
It felt like a switch had flipped, like the leaves turning from green to amber, and you missed it as it happened in front of you. Gone were the conversations about what this could be, replaced with silence and longing looks that had turned dismissive.
You weren't foolish; you could feel her distancing herself. You knew her feelings were becoming intense, but she didn’t know how to handle that. Ignoring them was her instinct—“Love was for children” was ingrained in her. She was a trained killer, taught not to embrace love, and it was as difficult for her to accept what was happening as it was for her to face the blood on her ledger.
But you had also been raised on a saying: “Never let someone tell you twice that they don’t want you.” Her actions spoke louder than any words she could say.
Director Hill was surprised when you requested a transfer. You knew she was Natasha’s best friend and would hear about this after you left. As you thanked the director for approving your request, you turned to Maria and asked, clearing your throat and looking her in the eyes, “Maria, all I ask is that you don’t tell her where you are sending me.”
Maria looked you over carefully. She felt that Natasha loved you, but habits were hard to break, and she thought you would navigate through it. She took a deep breath and nodded, recognizing that she needed to respect your decision. “You know she can hack and find out, right?”
You smirked, a tear threatening to break your composure. “She won’t.” You excused yourself and grabbed the bag you had left outside her office. Everyone was out on their respective missions, and you debated leaving a note to avoid blindsiding the team. Finally, you decided they deserved that acknowledgment—you loved them. They were your family. You left letters for everyone except Natasha on the briefing table.
Wanda sensed your absence when they landed on the compound. Tonight was movie night, and she was excited about the mindless distraction that would ease her mind after a taxing mission.
As they entered the room for a debriefing, they noticed letters in your unique cursive handwriting addressed to each of them. Natasha looked around and saw that her seat was the only one without a letter. Some team members exhaled deeply as they read their letters. Natasha shifted uncomfortably, feeling a growing apprehension during the entire flight home. She needed to talk to you and clear the air over the tension she had created.
Wanda tearfully looked at Natasha, silently conveying, “She requested a transfer,
she’s gone…”
Natasha took out her phone and pressed #1 on her speed dial. “The number you have reached—” she hung up before the message could finish. The emptiness of your room didn’t hit her. The lingering scent of your perfume didn’t register either. As the night wore on, Natasha found herself on the roof, seeking fresh air, headed toward your favorite nook in the corner. She lay down, letting the night breeze carry her tears.
As she lay there, she discovered a letter with her name nestled among the rocks. Natasha read the sentence over and over as her tears flowed.
“We would’ve been just fine.”